window.
“Do you hear?” said the king.
“I hear,” said Aramis, “but I understand neither the noise
nor the cry of pain.”
“I know not who can have uttered the cry,” said the king,
“but the noise is easily understood. Do you know that I am
to be beheaded outside this window? Well, these boards you
hear unloaded are the posts and planks to build my scaffold.
Some workmen must have fallen underneath them and been
hurt.”
Aramis shuddered in spite of himself.
“You see,” said the king, “that it is useless for you to
resist. I am condemned; leave me to my death.”
“My king,” said Aramis, “they well may raise a scaffold, but
they cannot make an executioner.”
“What do you mean?” asked the king.
“I mean that at this hour the headsman has been got out of
the way by force or persuasion. The scaffold will be ready
by to-morrow, but the headsman will be wanting and they will
put it off till the day after to-morrow.”
“What then?” said the king.
“To-morrow night we shall rescue you.”
“How can that be?” cried the king, whose face was lighted
up, in spite of himself, by a flash of joy.
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“Oh! sir,” cried Parry, “may you and yours be blessed!”
“How can it be?” repeated the king. “I must know, so that I
may assist you if there is any chance.”
“I know nothing about it,” continued Aramis, “but the
cleverest, the bravest, the most devoted of us four said to
me when I left him, `Tell the king that to-morrow at ten
o’clock at night, we shall carry him off.’ He has said it
and will do it.”
“Tell me the name of that generous friend,” said the king,
“that I may cherish for him an eternal gratitude, whether he
succeeds or not.”
“D’Artagnan, sire, the same who had so nearly rescued you
when Colonel Harrison made his untimely entrance.”
“You are, indeed, wonderful men,” said the king; “if such
things had been related to me I should not have believed
them.”
“Now, sire,” resumed Aramis, “listen to me. Do not forget
for a single instant that we are watching over your safety;
observe the smallest gesture, the least bit of song, the
least sign from any one near you; watch everything, hear
everything, interpret everything.”
“Oh, chevalier!” cried the king, “what can I say to you?
There is no word, though it should come from the profoundest
depth of my heart, that can express my gratitude. If you
succeed I do not say that you will save a king; no, in
presence of the scaffold as I am, royalty, I assure you, is
a very small affair; but you will save a husband to his
wife, a father to his children. Chevalier, take my hand; it
is that of a friend who will love you to his last sigh.”
Aramis stooped to kiss the king’s hand, but Charles clasped
his and pressed it to his heart.
At this moment a man entered, without even knocking at the
door. Aramis tried to withdraw his hand, but the king still
held it. The man was one of those Puritans, half preacher
and half soldier, who swarmed around Cromwell.
“What do you want, sir?” said the king.
“I desire to know if the confession of Charles Stuart is at
an end?” said the stranger.
“And what is it to you?” replied the king; “we are not of
the same religion.”
“All men are brothers,” said the Puritan. “One of my
brothers is about to die and I come to prepare him.”
“Bear with him,” whispered Aramis; “it is doubtless some
spy.”
“After my reverend lord bishop,” said the king to the man,
“I shall hear you with pleasure, sir.”
The man retired, but not before examining the supposed Juxon
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with an attention which did not escape the king.
“Chevalier,” said the king, when the door was closed, “I
believe you are right and that this man only came here with
evil intentions. Take care that no misfortune befalls you
when you leave.”
“I thank your majesty,” said Aramis, “but under these robes